Half a Millennium
by dreams.of.destiny
Summary: A slow-paced but quickly-written piece of work with slightly-interconnected stories of about two thousand words featuring Japan and China, presented in chronological order. Fifty short segments of time; two nation-peoples; one world.
1. awakening

x

Half a Millennium

x

Ready?

Okay, here's the deal: Japan/China is the main pairing. There are, however, plenty of background noises from the other characters, including: Korea, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Russia, England, the USA, Germany, Italy, Prussia, and Greece. A lot of other characters (Hungary, Austria, Vietnam, Belarus, Lithuania, France, etc.) make cameo appearances, and there are noticeable overtones of: Taiwan/Japan, Korea/China, China/Hong Kong, Russia/China, England/China, Hong Kong/Taiwan, Germany/China, England/USA, Russia/Japan, and Greece/Japan.

As for warnings: this fic deals with angst in spades. Yes, there is sex during a war, but mostly there is slaughter. While the depictions don't really fall under the classical definition of titillating, Truffaut's timeless quote - "there is no such thing as an anti-war movie" - is the first thing that comes to mind. I am not aiming to change opinions however, I am aiming to (re)tell a story. With that being said, I will warn of the particularly violent chapters in the author's note right before (e.g., if chapter 40 is rated 'M' then chapter 39 will include a warning in the A/N).

x

Thematically, this fic can be summed with: "That's not silly at all. That's not one particular culture or idea, that's the whole of humanity."

This is a slow-paced but quickly-written piece of work with slightly-interconnected stories of about two thousand words featured in chronological order. Fifty short segments of time; two nation-peoples; one world.

Anyways - I hope you enjoy.

x

x

x

ONE/FIFTY

_awakening_

x

Green is the first thing he opens his eyes to. He's in a forest (not that he knows that word yet) and he's alone save for the bugs and creatures that stand and stir nearby, looking curiously at this strange new thing that has suddenly appeared in their world.

Blearily, he blinks. But he's not lost because he has no idea what 'lost' is.

Nothing approaches the newly-formed nation for a long while; he doesn't understand why and he finds no reason for it to be different. Loneliness is not a foreign emotion; he's felt nothing else since the beginning. And it seems destined to stay that manner for the rest of time.

Then one day a furry bundle of black and white shuffles towards him, nibbling on his short hair. He yelps in alarm when he realizes that it is trying to lick off his ear.

"_Aiya!_" a voice cries from the depths of the forest. "Panda-aru, panda, where are you?" The silence is broken once more with a hysterical wail that makes the leaves shake and the other animals flee in terror. The monochromatic beast continues to sample his hair. The young boy stares ahead, feeling terribly bewildered when someone who looks like him steps out of the mass of foliage.

"Panda-aru!" the other person squeals - in easy delight - happily bounding over to grab the bunch of fur off his person. Although he is still young, some innate sense tells him that _normal people_ do not find so much enjoyment in having their faces slobbered over.

"-you!" he catches the other person saying. The young boy blinks, uncertain of how to respond. It's of no matter, he quickly convinces himself; the other being will lose interest and leave (leave him alone) and so he stares blankly ahead.

In the blink of an eye, he sees himself reflected in pools of golden brown.

The other person has suddenly bent down, furred creature in-tow, and proceeds to quizzically stare at him. Realization dawns on the elder's face when he reaches forth a hand to stroke the child's face. The touch is light and friendly and the younger one finds himself leaning towards the warmth of the other's hand.

"You must be a new nation, aru," the taller person murmurs. And then his face lights up into an enthusiastic smile, "Since you're the first new nation I've seen in the forest, I guess I should try to take care of you!" the hand moves from his cheek to his head, giving a gentle pat; "What's your name, little one?"

Panic grips the boy's heart; he doesn't know what to say. His mind is already feeding him images of the other leaving him alone (for however long he was alone) and for the first time he realizes that this feeling is not the same as before - that this is not loneliness. A name; quick, quick, so he will not be abandoned. The panic rather obviously goes to his head and he finds himself blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.

"_Nihon_!" he practically screams to the forest (and right in front of the other person as well). The Rising Sun. He thinks it embarrassing but hopes that the other one will not-

"Ah-hahaha!" light laughter dances through the trees, "What a great name! Come on, Nihon, aru! I'll take you to my home. I'm Zhong, by the way." He holds out a hand; newly-named child blinks; he takes this as confusion towards the wrong thing. "The Middle Kingdom?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "China?" The boy continues to stare. "Ah, no matter," he sighs, clutching onto the younger nation's fingers, "We're the same aru, so names shouldn't matter, right?"

And so, the two of them exit the forest (along with the black-and-white creature who is still furiously nibbling away), the boy with a new name and China with a protègé. China babbles about the weather and pandas and food and silk and how-much-he's-going-to-be-teaching while Nihon simply nods and listens. He realizes, once they reach the edge of the forest, the existence of a larger world - and he wants to make a tongue of his own.

But more than that, he enjoys the warm hand clasped abound his own.

It's better - much better - than being alone.

x

China is a patient teacher, but it definitely helps that Nihon is a quick learner and an intent listener.

"And this one means _ri_, which is sun, okay, aru?" The young boy nods immediately, copying the character down stroke-for-stroke. China claps enthusiastically, patting his student's head and exclaiming words of congratulations.

"Now you can spell your own name-aru, right?" And he looks expectantly at Nihon who realizes that yes, right now, he knows enough to write his chosen name. He nods, proceeding to write out the words for "sun" and "origin". He pauses, looks up and sees that China is writing something of his own.

His own name looks rather lonely on the sheet of paper.

_Zhong Guo_ is the second thing China has taught him how to write, so he scrawls those two characters on the page and instantly it looks - _better_. Nihon smiles to himself, proud that the two names fit together so well.

China sets down his own piece of parchment, looking towards his protégè, "What else would you like to learn-aru? I have a lot to teach, if you would like! The Middle Kingdom has painting and poetry and dancing and walking!"

"Walking?" Nihon says with a skeptical look (causing China to laugh - "You look like an old man-aru!"), "What is there to learn about _walking_?"

"Oh there's a lot to learn about that!" China moves the brush and paper off his lap, moving to stand, "Would you like me to show you?"

And Nihon is ever-so-eager to impress (to awe, to astound, to make the elder never want to leave) that he shakes his head and replies, "I can walk! It's really easy!" And he stands up as well, taking one step, two steps, three steps; four.

Turning around, the younger boy sees his instructor failing to hide a smile behind his hand.

Golden eyes light up in kind amusement as China unrolls his sleeves and murmurs (with a chuckle), "Watch, aru,"

Nihon may be young and in need of resources (and companionship and knowledge and the rest of the world) but it hardly precludes him from recognizing beauty. His eyes widen and he feels his breath catch as China 'walks' toward him. His feet must be moving (or else he wouldn't be) but for the world, the younger child cannot see any movement save for the strands of hair that curl about and dance in the gentle wind.

All too soon it is over and China is at his side, smiling and chatting of "And that's how you walk, aru!" and asking "So! Do you want to learn?" Nihon nods, perpetually studious. He wants just a tenth of that grace, that elegance, that beauty. Then, maybe he'll feel like a good student (and maybe China will never want to leave).

"Okay-aru!" China claps his hands together, laughing in delight at his pupil's interest in the art he's been trying to cultivate for some time. A quick glance in the sky shows it to be early in the afternoon. "We'll start practicing after the afternoon tea. But first, I want to see how you wrote your name!"

They take four steps back (six for the student) to the left-behind inkbrush and parchment. China takes one look at the characters on Nihon's piece of paper before exclaiming: "That's just what I wrote-aru!"

He shows his student his own piece of parchment: faded-white save for the dried black words that take up the center.

_Zhong Guo he Ri Ben_.

China and Nihon.

A smile that makes his face hurt and heart soar finds itself on Nihon's face as he realizes that they had indeed written the same exact words.

x

_brief history lesson_(1) Although it's not entirely certain when China and Japan first had contact, we are certain that Giant Pandas (_ailuropoda melanoleuca_) had already evolved to their present-day forms by then. Along the same lines, the boiling of tea leaves was discovered in China around the same time of the earliest-known recordings of Sino-Japanese contact (c. 2000 BC). The invention of paper (in a recognizable form), however, is comparatively newer, dating back to c.100 AD.

_notations_ - This part is mainly for readers who are reading this a second time. If this is your first time, I don't think you need to be bothered (and, in fact, it's really just pre-emptively answering questions). Anyways, hi! This is a rewrite of Half a Millennium. I was convinced to reread it a couple days ago (while in the middle of three simultaneous writer's blocks...) and while I still enjoyed bits and pieces, I felt that I could restructure it to be... well, less wince-worthy. So... there are three things I'll be concentrating on: (1) fixing typos and other general formatting errors, (2) smoothing out choppy passages, and (3) evening out the wordcount between chapters (mainly by making the first couple chapters longer and the last couple chapters shorter). I would like to have a brief history lesson at the end of each chapter, but we'll see how that goes. As for the plot... well, I'm quite happy with the original version so I won't be changing much of that. If you prefer the original version in its entirety, please feel free to download it as a .pdf on my FFN user profile.

With that being said, I'll be aiming to finish editing by 30 November 2012, so please take this time to uncheck me from your Author's Alerts (or uncheck this fic from your Story Alerts) unless you want your inbox spammed with 50 updates.

Thank you for your continued attention and support and I hope you're not terribly disappointed with this slightly revamped version.

...so yeah.


	2. siblings

x

Half a Millennium

x

x

x

TWO/FIFTY

_siblings_

x

The second child is bright and smart. Like Nihon, he has black hair and black eyes; like Nihon, he is eager to please. However, that is the extent of their similarities. Korea (as China has taken to calling him) is loud and brash and blunt and a huge of bundle of nothing-but-trouble. At least, that is what Nihon thinks of his new brother.

China, on the other hand, couldn't be more delighted to have another child to take of and teach and tutor and hope-to-achieve-happiness-with as well. As if Nihon could never be enough.

Korea is cheerful and warm, something he knows he will never be. China can twirl him about for all his worth and laugh and giggle and joke with him without any reciprocation or indication of joy. Nihon will smile, will talk, will maybe even laugh, but his reactions cannot hold a candle to either of his brothers.

When China tells a joke, Korea will clutch his stomach and fall to the floor laughing.

When China is teaching the two of them (or reiterating something Nihon already knows but Korea has ignored), Korea will be (loudly, enthusiastically) completing the assignment.

When China is in the mood for affection (be it a warm embrace or a feather-light brush of sleeves), it is _Nihon_ who will turn away for shame and Korea who will boldly return the elder's actions and words.

One day (soon, soon, it is coming) he knows that Korea will push him out of the picture. For what reason, he cannot fathom: he is still but a child and China will be forever naïve. But it matters not to the little voice who is whispering in the dark and the shadows and the rough breezes of the summer air. Neither of the children like sharing (whether it be papers, brushes, or beds) and they're certainly too young to call a truce in the name of the elder-brother figure of their life.

Korea smiles and Nihon understands: this is war.

He's read about it and talked about it and even thought about it at times, but he has never considered taking part in one. China had always abhorred violence for reasons unknown and before, his entire existence was bent around making the other one stay.

Before Korea, there had never been any real need for conflict: simply Nihon and China, China and Nihon; two countries-come-people who lived in and around and near the same forest. Now, now he understands why China has hated wars so much.

It's over before it starts; Korea has more power than his - insipid, stupid, weak, unguarded - face will reveal and Nihon is all-too-easily overpowered. The other boy has him not only disarmed but on his back on the ground as well and he hates himself for being so miserably helpless. He's lost, he knows; he's lost China's attention to Korea.

Now it's Korea's guard that's down and Nihon jumps back on his feet, weary-and-exhausted but more than ready to strike and have certain victory and-

And China walks into the tea room-turned-sparring ground and _shrieks_.

With speed and elegance and downright-anger unmatched, he has both members of his makeshift family on the floor without arms and without pride.

"What were the two of you thinking, aru?" Korea's face is sullen while Nihon's is devoid of emotion - like usual. "Korea, I know you're always so brash and impulsive but Nihon! I expected more from you! You know you're the older one, aru!" Korea is also smarter than the 'older one' would like to give him credit for as the other boy immediately senses a chance of redemption.

"China-hyung! Nihon tried to attack me, da-ze!" The 'younger' of the two bounds up and away, running forward to clutch about China's legs and burrowing a (inevitably smirking) face in the folds of his dress.

"Did you really?" China is rightfully suspicious. Nihon is devastated; doesn't know what to say. It is the truth, simply not the whole truth and - and China looks like he hates him right now. On the floor, he nods, solemnly, wishing he couldn't see the complete and utter disappointment drawn over his beloved elder brother's face.

"I..." China looks at a loss for words; Korea hugs about his legs tighter, "I am so tired..." and he ends weakly, uncertain of how to deal with the large confrontation. Nihon watches as the other simply leaves the scene, taking only enough time to gingerly slide himself out of Korea's grasp.

"China-hyung will be all mine, just wait and see!" Korea declares loudly before flouncing out of the room.

Nihon does not know that he will see neither of them for weeks to come after this encounter, choosing to climb to his knees and raise his hands to his face.

His cheeks are dry, though his chest hurts.

It is the first time he realizes that China might have lied to him, the first time he understands how painful it can be.

He hurts (all over, completely and utterly) and yet - and yet - the tears _are not coming_.

x

Lonely again. It was something he had been so used to for so many days, years, centuries, perhaps. But suddenly, the feeling of being alone (of being lonely) was not half as comforting as it first was.

And he knows the reason for his new change-of-view all-too-well: China.

He's lost the war against Korea, lost another against China (though it was a battle within hearts not hells), and now, Korea (as the rightful victor) has chosen for Nihon to cut off all ties with China. China has not visited him yet (it's been weeks? months? years?) but even through the dense foliage of the forest, he can hear the two of them, their different laughs mingling.

Nihon has his own people now, people like those of China and Korea. They do not know of his existence, all except for the Emperor, another something that is a reminder of China and all that he has done to-and-for Nihon. The Emperor is the only member of his country to see him; the others pretend that he is speaking to some holy deity of the like - God, his emperor jokes. Jokes.

Grimace; grim smile as he reads into the irony of the description.

'God' has been bested by his younger brother.

'God' has sent the entire country into forced isolation, into complete and utter loneliness, because...?

'God' is not a god, is not a person, and hates - hates - _hates_ being a country.

But more than anything, Nihon hates being able to only talk to one person. Because that person isn't China. The stench of defeat hangs about and makes a good home for itself with the feeling of absolute loneliness.

He's sick of it right now, sick of the 'consultants' quiet chuckles behind long sleeves ('the Emperor is talking to God again, oh, what a wonderous Emperor we have, much better than the one China has') and his own Emperor's greed and lack of initiative ('yes, yes, God says that we should raise the taxes once more. I believe that God would like me to have another delightful wife and more heavenly children.'). He wants out of this and the strong force of loyalty (yet another thing China has bestowed upon him) is the only thing that binds him here.

The thought keeps him alive, but only barely.

It's too soon and too obvious. He's going to crash, it's not a question, just a matter of time.

Yes, he'll crash, and then fall, and then others will be able to see him.

The Emperor lets loose a shout for help as he struggles to keep the now-touchable young-country from hitting the floor. Servants and waiters and consultants all come rushing over, everyone is talking all at once, but Nihon cannot hear, cannot see any of that. All that is in his eyes is the graceful flow of robes, that kind-gentle-smile, those cheerful eyes and...

Better times.

"Nii-san..." he weakly cries out, hands grasping for that so-far-away immortal frame.

Voices are all around him, words flying through and in and out of his ears _his heart hurts_.

"Who's _nii-san_?"

"Who is the child? How dare he be touching the hands of our Emperor!"

"Back away from him!"

"Nii-san is Chuugoku! He wants to see him!"

"What? Ridiculous! We're in a time of difficulty with Korea, they won't let us take a child-"

"Who is the child? Emperor, please get your revered hands off him!"

"We are taking this child to see his older brother. It is God's will. We leave when the sun rises," and as simple as that, the Emperor has made his move, taking Nihon in his arms and murmuring sentiments of goodwill towards the never-aging child. Said child clutches at his chest, clutches at his heart. There's a human sort of desperation - it _hurts_.

More voices, sunlight and shade and they are out of the house and into the forest and-

"What? There is no way we'll let someone of your kind into the house of our lord!"

"We feel that-"

"_Nihon_!" the world spins slower. It dances to a stop as the smell of plum blossoms drifts through the air and he feels himself being lifted up by graceful, flowing sleeves and gentle but firm arms.

When he wakes the next time, China is shushing Korea and chiding the younger about 'not disturbing elders' and 'not taking up so much of one person's time'. Then he whirls and catches Nihon's opened eyes.

"Nihon," China murmurs, softly, as he did when he found the young boy in the center of the forest, "I'm glad you're alright. You should come to me immediately if you're ever feeling unwell-aru."

"China-_nii_..." he feels his throat constrict and tears threaten to well up, "I'm...I'm..."

"Shh, shh, it's okay," China smooths the short-chopped-locks away from his forehead, "I'll stay with you," he uses his hand to keep the black hair from Nihon's forehead, pressing a warm kiss to the fevered, sweaty head.

Korea huffs in the background; China chastises him without menace.

"Welcome back," his impetuous younger sibling says in Chinese - a compromise of sorts.

Nihon snorts, laughs, and then doubles over coughing. China fusses over him and Korea reciting well-wishes in his own language. Nihon can't really make out the larger portion of them, but he nods absent-mindedly all the same. After a while, he drifts to sleep, muscles giving way to exhaustion.

Home, he thinks, and his heart stops hurting.

x

_brief history lesson_(2) The first known conflict between China and Japan happened when Korea was still split into Three Kingdoms and the "five" of them were involved in a war with each other (c. 660 AD). China sided with two-thirds of Korea while Japan was with the other third. For simplicity's sake, I kept Korea sane (that is, only one Korea). Japan was the obvious loser of the conflict and was isolated from Asia (and China) for some time after the conflict due to the treaty stipulations of one of the Korean Kingdoms' (Silla) involvement. After the war with Korea, there were still a couple Japanese tradesmen who managed to get past Korea's offensive systems and continue trade with China (c. 700 [AD is going to be assumed from here on out]). It is in this piece of history that I decided to have China and Japan 'make-up' for a short time. Keep in mind though that before the Opium Wars, China maintained relatively good relations with Japan (as well as the rest of the Asian countries).

_notations_ - The kiss on forehead is a bit of headcanon on my side. It's a running gag with my Japan/China fanfictions, hahaha.

...so yeah.


	3. incandescence

x

Half a Millennium

x

x

x

THREE/FIFTY

_incandescence_

x

The lights are beautiful and there's no place in the world as gorgeous as China when the new year comes rolling about. Children and adults and pets are out strolling on the streets; lights are everywhere: flickering in the booths, carried around by people, bobbing up-and-down on paper boats the water. Firecrackers and screams (whether of joy or abject terror, Nihon really would rather not know) are about and...

And - it is wonderful.

Two more members (young and exciting, as China would describe them) have joined the family: Xiang Gang and Taiwan. Taiwan is cheery and loud, a perfect complement to Korea-if the other weren't so busy being stuck to China-nii's side every waking second. Xiang Gang, on the other hand, is quiet and calm and... should Nihon happen to think too hard, reminds him rather of himself.

Of course, China-nii adores the two of them. He's managed to deck them both out in five layers of robes all while telling Xiang Gang how _lovely _and _darling_ the boy looked with an entire bush of flowers pinned up and around his hair. Nihon hides a smile behind his sleeve, choosing to reach for another bun ('Hey! That's mine!' Korea insists with his mouth full of year cake and a grotesque ogre mask hanging from his neck).

"Gege," Xiang Gang starts, a couple flowers falling out here and there (into the soup and rice and fish), "How come Taiwan doesn't have to wear so many flowers?"

"That's because I'm so much more - " Taiwan begins to say. She is outspoken and boisterous - has managed to negotiate the dressing down to only two blossoms, which have been fondly tucked in her dark-brown hair - but perpetually-adoring. Xiang Gang plucks a couple flowers off of the side of his head, sticking them childishly in his older sister's hair.

"Hey - !" Taiwan protests, as Nihon bites back a laugh and Korea snickers and points. "Xiang Gang! That's not - " she's interrupted by her eldest brother then: China all but hurdles over the short table, tackling the two of them to the floor.

"I love you, I love you both!" he repeats over and over in his own tongue, as Nihon smiles and remembers himself on the receiving end of such declarations, "Aahh, the two of you! You're just too cute!" he smothers boy and girl in hugs and kisses, with the flowers of their five governments flying about in the air.

"Gege..." the two youngest siblings simultaneously chime.

China squeals.

Never missing the chance for close contact and displays of _adoration_, Korea jumps into the pile of robes and flowers, easily a foot taller than Xiang Gang (and several stones heavier!).

"China-hyung, China-hyung! I want a hug as well!"

"Korea?" China-nii looks up from petals and a (terribly red but obviously delighted) Xiang Gang, "Aren't you getting too _old _for hugs?" he says this teasingly, but Korea ponders it, as if it were a serious question.

"China-hyung is older than me, but he can still hug people!" And with such a brilliant response, Korea dives forward, grabbing China by the waist and securing his place by the other's side for the umpteenth time. China sighs, and puts on a show of looking exasperated before looping one of arms around Korea as well.

"Stupid!" Taiwan declares, lifting herself out of the pile of limbs, "You guys have all forgotten about Nihon-gege!" And before he can react, he finds that small but determined arms have looped themselves around his neck. The various flowers (mostly plum-scented, like China) push themselves into his face, and he's forced to look up at a delightful China whose face is also framed by Xiang Gang's various blossoms.

Flushing, Nihon looks away, gently removing the younger girl's arms from his neck. She pouts, but does nothing more, choosing to join the warm and happy pile that is the China-Korea-Xiang Gang group... fumble.

"Aiyah!" And it truly becomes a massive fuss-and-fumble of clothing and arms and legs when Taiwan reaches to grab China's upper-robe and...misses. Instead, her hand wraps around a flower stem from Xiang Gang and all-too-quickly, China is squashed in-between Korea and Taiwan, yet on top of Xiang Gang.

"Gege...you're really heavy," the youngest comments.

Nihon notes how he doesn't look bewildered at all. Rather, he looks almost happy - no doubt from seeing that the larger portion of the flowers have fallen out of his hair.

"That's because China-gege is the oldest person!" Taiwan replies smartly.

"Ehh? No way! Korea must be heavier than me-aru!" China says indignantly, as if he doesn't care that Korea's knee is currently wedged in his waist.

"Hah! I am always skinny, da-ze~!" Korea retorts smarmily and...

Nihon loves his 'family' (they are the only other 'people' like him aside from his beloved emperor who can see and touch him on 'normal' days, after all), but it's at these times, when all the other nations are together and he is simply-

Alone.

Suddenly, he's all too aware of the light rays and where they happen to hit. China-nii's face is completely illuminated by one, the flowers on both Xiang Gang and Taiwan have been lit up by the lanterns, and Korea's hair is just sparkling due to the cow-fat candles nearby. But as for him, as for Nihon...?

The light - it fails to shine on him.

The bitter irony of his own chosen name dawns on him and he wonders if he will ever -

"Nihon-aru! Are you going to sit there all by yourself or help your silly gege untangle himself from this mess?" China jokingly demands, reaching a hand out from the pile to playfully dangle some three steps away. He finds himself unclenching the chopsticks and walking the distance to remove (all too quickly) arm from shoulder from waist from elbow from ear and despite a few...

"My flowers!"

"Aiyah! Not there, Nihon!"

"Hey! That's not fair, da-ze~!"

"...Nihon-gege...!"

...side comments, he has them all untangled and unlooped and untouching while the moon still hangs in the sky.

In what he hopes to be a friendly gesture, he reaches forth and pulls China up with one hand. The other is still a good head taller (although he's been told he's pretty short, even for his people) and can all too easily reach forward and -

Plant yet another kiss on his forehead.

Nihon's face flushes a cherry-blossom red as China gives a terribly-accented '_Arigatou_!', inclining his head at just the right angle, smiling at (or maybe for?) him.

The newly-bloomed nation's breathe hitches as the sounds from Korea ('No fair, China-hyung! You didn't kiss me!') and Taiwan ('Ch-China-gege! I-I want one too!') are all-but-unheard.

The moon, perfectly round, as per timing of the Lunar New Year, illuminates China-nii's face perfectly.

Age and times and rights and acceptable notions thrown aside, Nihon finds himself holding tightly onto his older brother, his beloved teacher, his neighbor, secretly hoping that no one else (not Korea or Xiang Gang or Taiwan) will see such a face.

"Aiyah?" China murmurs, but does not question. Gaily, he smiles and loops his arms around his eldest sibling.

x

As per traditions of New Year, Nihon is allowed to stay over at China-nii's home for the week following the festivities. His siblings have joined in on the yearly 'fun' (Xiang Gang and Taiwan still finding it an exciting and new activity), which brought the five of them to their current position and all-too-inevitable argument.

"But China-_HYUNG_," Korea begins, voice high and whining, like the spoiled child he loves to behave as, "It's the New Year, da-ze, and we've always slept with you around this time!" And he stamps his foot to accentuate his childishness.

China sighs and Nihon notes there to be a single dark line - it is impossible but it is there: a wrinkle; trickling down his cheek like a teardrop. Korea would have jumped into his arms, had Xiang Gang not been in-tow and had Taiwan not been clenching a rather large handful of his hair in annoyance.

"Korea," China starts, "you're a good boy, right?" And he kneels down, gentle smile in-place (and hadn't Nihon vowed for no one else to ever see it?), placing a hand on his 'sibling's' shoulder, "China-hyung is really tired from last night's fireworks and would really appreciate your help in putting your younger siblings into their beds."

Ever the calculating person, Korea mulls this over or a moment before mock-saluting and saying, "But of course, China-hyung! Korea is the place where filial piety came from! I will take care of my our younger siblings as if they were the sun themselves, da-ze~!"

China laughs, filled with his usual good humor, at the obviously fake claim. He pats Korea on the back fondly, gently untangling Taiwan's fingers (and protests of 'But Gege! Korea was being so disrespectful!') from Korea's hair. Nihon looks rather nonplussed at the situation, but he is the eldest 'child' and knows when to not press (unlike his oh-so-outspoken 'sibling').

"Good night," he whispers before turning to follow the retreating figures of Korea, Taiwan, and Xiang Gang.

A shuffle of robes; he didn't think that China-nii would've heard, and then he hears a question that he would have never expected to answer, much less towards China-nii.

"Nihon," his eldest brother murmurs, clenched fists and sallow smile. "Have I... have I been a bad teacher-aru?" The tremble in those words and the raw despair that was poorly masked by the shaking (_sad_) smile caused the child to turn around. He finds his fellow nation curled up on the floor, back leaning against the tall back of the bed. Nihon has seen many, many faces of China-nii, but this is a new one.

The tears that threaten to fall, the expression that's hidden by limp hair -

This isn't a face he wants to hide from the world; this is a face he never wants to see.

Desperately, he scrambles through the forests and valleys of his mind for an appropriate response.

Nothing comes (panic, panic; China-nii looks like he wants to die; what to do, no no no...) and Nihon can't think of anything to say or do. China looks up, obviously taking the silence to be a guilty concession, and drops his head down once more. The hairs that have slipped from his customary tie drop and flutter about, shading his eyes and making the eldest country look like a corpse.

"China-nii..." he's the one stuttering, stumbling, and he feels like a human child (though he knows he should be much older and wiser by now), fists clenching about his suddenly-heavy robes.

"Nihon, please help go tuck Xiang Gang and Taiwan into bed," China-nii rises to his full height, normal elegance and grace returned (albeit weak and shuddering); his tone is commanding with a hint of...apology?

Nihon simply nods (forever obedient, forever devoted) and dashes off to follow long-silenced footsteps.

China slumps to the floor, clutching at the place where his heart is hurting (everywhere, everywhere, everywhere).

x

_brief history lesson_(3) The first series of Opium Wars - fought primarily between England and China - started around 1839. Before that, the Asian nations lived in relative harmony. Although there were definitely brief skirmishes and extended squabbles (most often over trading routes and shipping rights), and Genghis Khan, Asia - like Europe - generally fell in-tandem with the trend of feudalism - that is: small, barely-connected states with an emphasis on tradition, religion, and family. As a result, there is a minimal amount of documentation towards Sino-Japanese relations, a pattern which continues up until the second Opium War.

_notations_ - Returning readers, thank you guys so much! I can't believe it's been three years. Long time no see indeed. New readers, hi and welcome! I hope you find something you like in this story, even though it is filled to the brim with unpleasant things.

...so yeah.


	4. associations

x

Half a Millennium

x

x

x

FOUR/FIFTY

_associations_

x

After (finally) getting both of the younger children tucked in and suitably calm enough to fall asleep, it's no wonder that Nihon chooses to retire to his room. He knows well: China-nii would have been better suited to the job. And yet, that one image of his older brother is still reverberating against his eyelids (never fading, even when the candles are blown out and covers pulled over tight) and he feels guilty and sick at his own inaction.

And even though he knows - China-nii _cannot_ die - he still wonders and worries: China-nii might die.

He's read of people dying.

He has seen people die: his own in that (long, long ago) war with Korea, and even more as victims to themselves.

He knows that all people, whether servants, civilians, or emperors, will eventually pass away.

But China-nii...?

The only elder-figure in his life? The person who held hands with him every O-bon Festival? The one who always pressed single light kisses over his forehead in farewell? The one person who he-

...who he cannot bear to say good-bye to.

"Nihon! _Nihon_!" Korea hisses through the creak of the opened door. He buries his head deeper under the imperial silk sheets (he's really grateful to China-nii for 'allowing' silk to be created in his country as well), hoping that perhaps, maybe, if he ignored his younger sibling, he'll go away (like he never does).

"Nihon! Nihon!" that annoyingly childish voice repeats, causing said nation to throw the sheets off from his figure, hoping Korea can see his suitably annoyed face despite the minimal lighting.

Either he does and doesn't care, or the boy has selective vision (amongst other selective abilities) as well.

"We have to go listen to China-hyung's door!" he whispers, almost-frightfully, into the other's ear.

"What?" Clearly, Korea is dumber than he's given credit for, a fact that Nihon feels he needs to pin down, "Can't you see how China-nii looked? He's not in the mood to be disturbed! We're just going to make the entire situation worse!" He realizes that his voice has risen a significant amount, but he's too guilty and ashamed to care.

Korea claps a hand about his mouth as soon as he's finished, his normally-loud voice dropping to a perfect-snake-like whisper.

"Nihon, I just saw a foreigner going into China-hyung's room." He pauses to take in the surprise of his sibling before steadfastedly continuing, "You know what that means. We have to go investigate! What if China-hyung's going to be hurt?"

A million retorts-come-replies are on the tip of Nihon's tongue, ranging from 'What good would we do in a conflict?' to 'I'm sure China-nii can defend himself in a situation!' but they all die before making their way out as the image of China-nii on the ground springs to mind.

With much humiliation, he nods his head in agreement. Korea flashes a terribly delighted smile, removing his hand from Nihon's face and leading his elder out of the room. Silently, Nihon follows Korea and the two of them slink out of his room, taking care to not (compulsively) close the door or have their garments unexpectedly snag onto any of the many decorations adorning the long and silent hallway.

Their timid steps fill the never ending hallways with sounds of palpable fear.

It's ridiculous, Nihon tries to convince himself - he's seen his brother's army; his many soldiers and treasures and lands and _resources_ - and really, how can he lose? He is the Middle Kingdom, after all.

Upon reaching the end of corridor, Korea expertly kneels down and puts his ear to the door of the room, taking care to not lean at all. It's with a bit too much ease for the nation that created filial piety, Nihon wryly notes. He says nothing though, just bites his lower lip while making sure to copy the other's posture and position flawlessly, so as to make the minimal amount of noise.

The voices (and there are definitely two different ones) are soft at first, only allowing the two 'children' to hear limited amounts of conversation, but the pitch and fury are both quickly escalating.

"He - you - but we said - "

"Times - I - know what - "

"Please - can't! But I'm just - "

"You - best for everyone - stop - really,"

"But he's my younger brother!" China's tearful voice cuts through, causing Korea and Nihon to simultaneously stiffen.

"You're being ridiculous!" a foreign voice, loud and annoyed cuts through, "You should be honored that the British Empire has its sights et on such a pathetic piece of land that you happened to-"

"He's not a pathetic piece of land-aru!" A stomp, followed by subsequent clatters of ridiculously-heavy adornments. Korea's eyes are wide, and Nihon has a sinking feeling on the identity of the pathetic piece of land in question.

"What's going on?" Korea whispers, eyes wide.

'We should leave,' his conscience tries to vocalize.

"Stop struggling!" and the grievances from long-ago can still be heard, "You yellow people always think you're so much better, huh? Always the best what with your silly ideals and feminine clothing! You think you're smarter than us as well! And - "

"Take what you want!" China is sobbing now, "Anything, everything, just please don't take Xiang Gang!"

Korea looks like one of the outside dragons; Nihon feels terrible for the waves of relief that are coursing through him.

'We should leave,' his conscience tries to say again.

"Anything that I want?" the foreigner contemplates, "Does that mean I can take Korea and Nihon and Taiwan-as long as you get to keep Xiang Gang?"

A pause, a beat; Nihon feels his heart stop.

"Yes..." China gasps, "Xiang Gang is the youngest one - ! I'm just so scared that - "

"Hm. Pity," the foreigner sneers, and there's another clatter of vases and papers, "Because at the moment... _I would much rather have you_."

Nihon has no idea as to why the strange sounds are ensuing but he doesn't care either.

"Wh-what's - " Korea tries to get out, pressing even harder up against the door. He takes one look at his older sibling however, and realizes where his priorities lie.

Nihon is reeling from the various realizations, with his palms and knees pressed against the floor. His mouth is open and his conscience is still playing the tune. 'You should leave,' it tells him, and he pays it no heed.

China-nii was willing to trade him for Xiang Gang.

China-nii liked him less than Xiang Gang.

China-nii was going to abandon everyone for Xiang Gang.

Somewhere in between the initial sob-come-declaration and the ensuing sounds, Nihon finds that Korea has managed to clasp their hands together, pulling forcefully to get his elder sibling off the ground and on his feet. They're moving, he realizes, and they're moving down the same corridor, in the direction of his own room.

As soon as they reach it, Korea closes the door, uncaring of who will hear. Nihon looks dejectedly at the bed before looking up.

The moon is a mere crescent right now, but the barest amount of light allows him to see the stready trail of tears down Korea's face.

Despite the heated-rivalry they share and all of their disagreements and competitions, Nihon finds that his heart is aching for Korea as well, who has been so dedicated and adoring of China-nii.

"I..." he mumbles, clutching helplessly at his robes, "I'm older than you. You shouldn't have had to hear that."

"Don't be stupid," Korea cries, leaning into his brother's shoulder, "Didn't you know that... that I promised China-hyung I would take care of you?"

But then again, they all have.

x

Time makes its slow way, though none of his kind have felt it. They learned with their people, for their people, and, at times, from their people.

This is one of those rare moments, Arthur thinks.

Had he never sat around a negotiations table and a family table, he would have likely confused the two in this sort of setting.

China is obviously looking glum (although entirely too delectable, with those marks his marks on the edge of his neck), but then again, no one likes being the loser of war. He's forced to lose face in front of his beloved children though - when seated next to them (all of whom have faces ranging from muffled sniffles to outright sobbing) - China easily makes for the happiest lot.

Arthur feels that, he too, is as good of a parent as China, he's raised Alfred and his brother (whose name he just can't quite remember...) and a couple other countries around the world; all of them turned out to be fine specimens of nations (even though it broke his heart when they decided to declare independence, or attempt it, and whatnot).

But none of them had the face of Xiang Gang when they were leaving him.

The realization strikes deep into his heart, at the very core and foundation of his pride as a 'parent', and he absolutely hates China for having raised children who would cry openly while being forced to leave their beloved parent-figure. The others are all sad as well; thinking (with good reason, his mind echoes) about the time for when their eventual good-byes would come.

Alfred never showed him such a tearful face, ever at a younger age.

Jealousy bubbles: I have won the war, he insists, I should not be jealous of China at all.

With that thought in mind, he steels his resolve in the breaking-apart of the family. It's not easy for him either, he thinks, but it must be done (his leaders - his _Queen_ - they all demand it. And come hell or high water, Arthur has always been true to the national motto). Better him be the parent than that bloody frog Francis, after all; who knows what the other nation might teach Xiang Gang in the years to come?

He's tried explaining it logically to China, but apparently, the other can't quite grasp simple logic like: 'Hey, I'd like to take one of your siblings-slash-children under my wing for a couple of centuries whether you like it or not, and I'd also like you to do something about my trade deficit while you're at it' approach. It's understandable, yes, but really, Xiang Gang looks like he's a boy with enough logic to understand that his 'new' parent will be so much better than China (and he should, therefore, not be so damnably teary about the whole thing).

He ends up ascertaining: it must be something that the Asian countries have.

He's seen it out on the streets after all, this unspoken bond of blood.

Arthur is momentarily pulled out of his thoughts by a steamed meat bun being placed into his bowl, courtesy of China. The other makes no motion of hospitality, choosing instead to hug Xiang Gang closer to him, attempting to comfort the crying child and himself at the same time. Arthur wants to remove the embrace, but then the small girl (Taiwan, he remembers China telling him of in previous encounters) has somehow gotten from the other end of the table to his side, bowing down and whispering obvious-pleas in the Chinese tongue.

A flash of agony crosses over China's face before he releases Xiang Gang from his embrace, picking Taiwan up and comforting her as well.

"What? Does the little girl want to come with me as well?" Arthur sneers, reaching for the little girl.

China shrieks, slapping the other's hand away with more force than he knew the fallen Asian nation possessed.

He - Arthur, the British Empire - must have looked positively bewildered for a moment, a startling contrast to China's coldly furious face, before retracting his previously-outstretched hand.

"Don't touch her, aru," the pure malevolence in the other nation's voice causes Arthur to feel a swell of both delight and anticipation. "You may humiliate me and insult my country and steal Xiang Gang, but it will be over my dead body when you defile Taiwan of her innocence!"

A beat of silence and even Xiang Gang has stopped his tears, Korea his sniffling.

Taiwan's young (innocent, pure) fingers clutch tighter at her gege's clothing.

A flush is quickly rising to Arthur's face but he forces it down (he is the winner in this situation, the _winner of the world_), choosing instead to wrap an arm about China's waist, caring less about the three outraged yelps. "So does that mean it's alright if I defile you?" A hint of a leer on his own face - reflected in China's eyes; and dear God, he's been around Francis for far too long...

"Hey! England! You need to get off of China-hyung!" Korea demands, youthfulness and anger bursting forth like firecrackers. His English is terrible, his accent atrocious, and Arthur simply scoffs in response, pulling China closer to his body and inhaling the (blessedly) shorter nation's hair, much to the other's indignation and Taiwan's almost-squawks.

Plum bloss -

The door is flung open with a resounding _thud _and China's first child comes strolling in, all cold-and-collected anger and barely-contained rage. An unsheathed sword rests heavily on his hands as he boldly points the tip at England's throat. Arthur can see his killing intent, and he can feel the waves of murder resonating in the air from the boy.

Alfred would have never -

"Let go of China-nii, immediately," he says in broken English and Japanese. Arthur barks out a laugh; and all-too-quickly, there's a red river of blood trickling from the base of his chin. His eyes widen, before another smile-come-smirk spreads across his face. Asia is so terribly interesting, he thinks. He forcefully pushes China with Taiwan-in-arms towards the ever-so-devoted child-nation.

China's eyes widen; he sees the fighting spirit in Arthur's eyes.

"So you want to fight me, boy?" Arthur barks out a laugh, all too happy in the face of a challenge (he sees China in those black eyes, be they not gold), "That's pretty brave, an island nation like yourself, unable to speak my language, even!"

Nihon (as the boy calls himself), flushes a dark red, and then Arthur sees the flash of the sword in front of his eyes and there's not time to dodge and he suddenly thinks of Victoria and Elizabeth and Richard and Francis and Rome and -

And what would they have said to this scene?

A light catch of paper through air and nothing else. He opens eyes he didn't know were closed, only to come face to face with Nihon, expression struck with disbelief. China is in front of him, Arthur realizes, breath not-at-all caught, moving only as the Asian nations could move: like lightning. A closed fan has managed to stop the arc of the sword, albeit in part to shock from the sword-wielder's side as well.

A trickle of blood runs from China's palm, creating a beautiful (matching) red river down his arm, blending with his red sleeves.

"Nii-sama," Nihon whispers, shock and disbelief and complete-and-utter betrayal oozing out of every syllable and character and pore of his body. And Arthur understands why Xiang Gang was in such tears, why Nihon is all-too-quick to defend, why Korea is so protective, and why Taiwan has managed to not know the slightest hint of English yet.

Alfred would have never done this for him.

He understands China's intentions, knows just-how-good-and-painful being a good 'parent' means. Nihon would have lost any war waged against England, regardless of whether he was united with the other Asian countries or not. And China, after having seen this, like any good parent...

"China-hyung! Why? WHY?!" Korea is clutching at the other's robes, hands, hair, face; tears openly streaming as opposed to before. Nihon's face is hidden by his hair, but Arthur sees the tears (guilt, guilt, guilt wells up inside of him) on his cheeks before the other sheathes his sword, turning abruptly (knocking a priceless statue to the ground and to pieces by accident) and leaving the scene.

The sound of the statue crashing is the last straw for Xiang Gang and Hong Kong, and the two of them join Korea next to China, in tears.

China, too, is starting to cry and -

Alfred has never cried for him -

It's always been the other way around.

It takes every ounce of willpower for Arthur to keep from joining the sobbing mass on the floor.

x

_brief history lesson_(4) The first Opium War made China lose Hong Kong and give up a lot of special rights - namely: trading exclusivity - to the UK. As a result of these stipulations, China was not a happy country. In addition, Japan - and Korea and Taiwan - were terribly traumatized after having observed the Opium Wars; they quickly understood that the Western nations (especially England) were much more powerful and could quite easily defeat the strongest Eastern nation (at that time, China). This caused them to retreat further back into themselves, scorning foreigners and foreign contact for fear of recreating China's defeat.

...so yeah.


	5. crossroads

x

Half a Millennium

x

x

x

FIVE/FIFTY

_crossroads_

x

It has been three years since he has last seen Nihon, and China still feels his chest whenever he thinks of his first student. Korea and Taiwan have grown into wonderful nations: Korea is half a head taller than him and Taiwan has taken the first step into womanhood. His heart swells when he sees them in the New Year's - there's hardly any time to see them otherwise. It swells and then clenches and he clutches at the spot because his forever-nostalgia mind instantly shifts back.

Back to the days of the five of them - back to the days of Xiang Gang and Nihon.

Arthur takes care to refer to them as Hong Kong and Japan respectively; the names are foreign (like everything about Arthur), but China forces himself to follow suit. Vaguely, he wonders if Nihon even knows what he is referred to nowadays. The boy has been cooped up on the island for so long. Once, China had sent a letter, but it had been returned, unread, unopened, and untouched. Arthur says something then, a horrible joke of one kind or another, and China jerks the corners of his lips up, mimicking his sickening laugh.

'Hong Kong', he says.

'Japan', he says.

And still, he is unable to attach an image to those names.

England's people (ambassadors, they call them, but he knows them for what they are: _conquerors_) are coming today, and he's only out of his quarters in the palace because there's a chance that Arthur might be with them.

It's not Arthur he wants to see, of course, but if it's Arthur he sees - he might be able to see Xiang Gang again.

During the previous visits, he's always asked for permission to see his youngest sibling, only to have the subject professionally swerved out of the conversation. He's retorted to pleasing and bribing and sometimes even downright-begging. As a nation-incarnate, his pride hurts with every action, but he is an older brother (a teacher, a mentor, a _friend_) too and - it will all be worth it if he can see Xiang Gang again.

"Arthur!" he sees the splotch of dirty-yellow hair amongst the other Englishmen, and runs towards it. The other nation turns, an ever-annoyed look present on his face. China sees the black smudge of firecrackers and his heart simultaneously soars and plummets.

Xiang Gang has been causing trouble over at Arthur' house again, he knows.

Needless to say, he probably won't see the boy for another couple moons.

"China," Arthur says with a slight inclination of his head for acknowledgement. He lifts his arm and China knows what is expected; he loops his arm through the other's with little hesitation. Arthur then leads the way down the once-empty hallways; he's been here long enough to know the way to China's chambers. The observant ambassadors chuckle amongst each other. Although China has promised to swallow his pride, he still waits for England to lead the two of them out of earshot before continuing.

Nonetheless, he finds himself instinctively leaning into Arthur. It's a result of posture and stance, he insists, fighting the rising flush.

The other's mouth quirks up in a pseudo-smile of possession and China hears in his leer: 'this is how far you have sank, you once-glorious nation'. He does not, however, actually say anything, and chooses instead to quicken their pace.

"I would like you to kiss me for once," is the first thing that Arthur says, as soon as the door has been barred.

China's eyes widen. Although he has undoubtedly fallen, he has never known the word 'collateral' until now.

But he knows (or at least, he has learned) that he must play his cards right, otherwise he will never see his stolen sibling.

Pride begone, pride begone - he insists, even as his face colors. He closes his eyes before leaning in just a little bit on his toes to deliver a rushed press-of-lips against Arthur's cheek.

For once, he's betting on it not being enough.

Sure as the winter snow, Arthur's face cracks into an all-too-fitting sneer, and he asks in a jeer: "Did you really think that that counts as a kiss?"

His speech is deliberately slow, so that China can understand him.

A sort of innocence flits over China's features, he hopes England can read the message of 'what do you mean?' that he's trying to convey through wide eyes and high brows and deceptively-curled lips. Arthur's smile (true and ferocious, the Western beast, he's comes to known) surfaces, and - in motions too rushed and frenzied to be out of anything but desire, China's sprawled out on his bed, robes askew and hair unknotted.

He feels it too; this rush and delight and pure ecstasy that comes with dirty, dirty actions (like these), but he can't feel it today (that's alright, he doesn't like it; Xiang Gang is infinitely more important). China will act childish, but only a fool will actually believe it.

One can't live two thousand years without picking up something or another.

The knowledge of immortality is secret enough, he thinks.

Timing is everything in a situation like this.

Arthur's face is red, his skin is flushed and sweaty (and smells of want and need and the West) and when China pushes his chest, forcibly removing all contact.

"Wha-?" Shock and puzzlement are sickeningly clear over Arthur's face. China presses soft fingers to the other's head, pulling him almost close enough to kiss. And then he stops altogether, pausing for green to meet gold. Gently - and with a certain amount of wistfulness - China traces the character for 'God' on the side of Arthur's neck.

"May I... may I please see Hong Kong?" His voice is low, calming, and he hopes, prays, begs-to-an-unmerciful-God that Arthur will respond positively.

Reality, of course, lavishes the contrary.

With the sweeping grace of one who has ravaged the seas for years on end, England not only has the two of them sickly-bonded, but catches China's wrists in one hand. Greedily, he presses his face closer, forcing a furious kiss. In the heat of the moment, China swears he hears the word 'alfred', though he does not know its meaning.

"You Asian nations always think you're so much better and smarter with your teas and arts and firecrackers and silks," it's a slow drawl; China doesn't quite understand everything, but he knows that Arthur is not so much talking to him as he is talking _at_ him. "Well, you can't always have the upper hand in trade forever. In fact, I'll have you know that I'm _glad_ that you bloody wankers have managed to get yourselves addicted to opium!"

Rage lights up across his face and China can only understand the word 'opium' at that point before his eyes widen and a pipe filled with the previously mentioned drug is shoved into his mouth.

x

Later, much later, when he's stopped seeing stars and gods and goddesses and emperors of long-long-long ago, China finds that his breath is still short and his vision is still dotted with spots and splotches of things otherworldly.

Arthur lays next to him, calmly stroking his undone, thrice-brushed hair, and murmuring something-that-sounds-like-compliments to him. The pipe has long been extinguished and his mouth is dry-and-raspy; desperate for water or tea or anything that will quench the terrible, horribly thirst. He can't move his arms or legs, but after a while, his vision begins to clear and he can hear relatively well soon after.

"...need a real name," Arthur concludes. He looks rather expectantly at China (who cannot see so much as he can feel the glance), before realizing that the other nation didn't quite hear the whole speech. "I think that you need a name other than Zhong."

China moves raspy lips, attempting to get through a couple syllables of English.

He can't; they're too dry and it doesn't quite matter because his mind is still swirling and the black dots and-

And blessed, blessed, beloved water is being gently trickled down into his mouth from a teacup. It takes him a moment to realize that Arthur was the one to give him water and massage his throat so that China could swallow the water as well. As soon as he's able to, China quickly voices the most obvious answer:

"But Zhong is my name. I _am_ Zhong."

"My ambassadors tell me that Zhong means 'China', right?"

A nod of consent.

"Then that's not a real name. I'm England, which is England in English by the way, but you don't see everyone calling me 'England'! I mean, that's just stupid! I'm - You're - well, the lot of us, we're definitely something more than just countries. Which is why you need a name. A real name,"

China doesn't understand this need to be something other than a country (after all, that's all he's known in his life), but then again, he doesn't understand a lot of Western ideas.

"I know just the name for you!" Arthur looks almost-delighted from this angle, and China finally realizes: this is his attempt at apology. "Your real name can be Frederick! It's a brilliantly-English-"

But Arthur is cut off from his preening when China convulses into a coughing fit. The most depressing part being that he's not sure whether it's an aftereffect of the terrible drug or a reaction to that putrid name. Frederick. Disgusting; the mere sound clenches his stomach and makes him want to vomit whatever's left, like much of the things that he attaches by image to Arthur.

He has to think up a name - quick. Arthur has taken Xiang Gang and his people and Nihon and even his limbs, but to have the word 'Frederick' being attached to his person, his nation.

Impossible.

"Wang Yao," is the first thing he thinks of; an emperor from too-long ago, perhaps? (His mind is foggy and he's drifting off to sleep again and Arthur is so horrible and good at times and he hates this trade so much-) Arthur is speaking something, but his ears are fogging up again (if he didn't know of immortality, he might have thought he was at death's door right now) and his vision has long blurred.

In the end, it's not the name that he thinks of.

Revenge against Arthur, the thing he feels in his people, is also not on his mind.

Even Xiang Gang is not the image, and his heart clenches into itself (again) because he's remembering -

A childish smile and eyes black as night; the endless shadows of the bamboo forest; a panda - they're dying, disappearing, and he knows it's England's fault - munching at hair and ears and noses rather than bamboo. Laughing, learning, living -

Why, he wonders, do those simple things seem so long ago?

China rises up from the bed, fingers clutched around Arthur's shoulders. His eyes are a brilliant yellow and they sparkle with madness.

"Wh - "

"_Why_," the other nation beats him to the chase, rasping out the single word before falling back into a fitful slumber.

After an extended pause, Arthur slowly exhales. He removes his fingers from the breast of his shirt, pulling the sheets over China's prone form while disposing of the pipe.

He is sorry, but not apologetic.

x

_brief history lesson_(5) The first Opium War lasted from 1839 to 1842. Although it was fought over the drug opium, England's main purpose was to balance the trade deficit (China was exporting tea and silk, while importing little to nothing). Japan chose to isolate itself from every other country from the end of said war until about the 1870's (courtesy of the US and Commodore Perry) because it was (rightfully) scared of the West repeating what they did to China.

_notations_ - The stuff in the middle of the 'x' can be found in "Requiem in Red" (another oneshot-fanfiction of mine which also has the pairing of UKxChina). Half a Millenium, in my headcanon, takes place in the same world as my original Hetalia oneshots ("Requiem in Red" and "Towards Separation"), though it's more like a continuation-slash-filling-in-the-gaps for them. I chose to not introduce the opium part of the Opium War until now, because I couldn't see the character of China taking opium willingly (though a significant portion of China got addicted to opium) so I had Arthur shove it down his throat in a fit of rage.

...so yeah.


	6. revelations

x

Half a Millennium

x

x

x

SIX/FIFTY

_revelations_

x

He was surprised when he learned from his Emperor that China had assumed a name other than Zhong as well. The Western influence has reached the other first, however, so he doesn't think too much of it, allowing the Emperor to choose a 'real' name for him. Wang Yao; he cannot think of China and that name together (though typically Chinese it may be), but like many changes, he's certain he'll get used to them eventually.

In the coldest sense possible, these changes are not choices so much as they are necessities. He's long known that the secret of immortality lies hidden in the valleys and mountains and rivers and forests of China, but pride compels him to not ask. He's already taken his tongue and his dress and his customs from his elder 'sibling'.

_Nihon_, he has been forced to acknowledge, does not exist in the changing world. Nihon has become Japan, the name that is recognized by the more powerful group, the country that sent Perry-san and ended his personal loneliness.

Now, the country of Japan trades and begins to flourish with the changes that the Meiji brought along. He learns to button a suit and tie a tie and aim a gun. These are all improvements, and it will all pay off when the Western powers realize that he isn't some helpless Oriental country. Japan may be small and it may be vastly lacking in natural resources, but that does not mean they will lose.

His people; Kiku's people, they have a drive for greatness, for success, for ambition, the likes of which he's never thought possible. Where Korea's people are bold and China's people are hardworking, he sees want and _have_ in his own people.

To a large degree, he's proud of their willingness to adjust and adapt in the face of certain adversary. But a small portion is ashamed of that quick ability (to think that they were so willing and easy of letting go; he wonders: did they ever 'belong' or 'have' anything in the first place?), but he brushes the thought aside. It wouldn't help matters after all.

Needless to say, he's delighted to see the preparations for the New Year celebrations, despite their New Year coming almost two months early. The first is a success, and when they are planning the second, the thought of China-nii (ah, but no, his kind emperor chides, he is to be referred to as 'Wang Yao' now) enters his mind for the first time in years.

Immediately, he thinks to invite the other over, carefully penning a perfectly English letter to his elder brother.

x

For China, the one beneficial aftermath of the Opium Wars is that he now remembers the year. Yes, it is the Westerner's year system and yes, its primary purpose is to make him feel a lot older than he rightfully should, but at least now, he can have a marking for the passing of time, rather than simply feeling the thing itself flow by.

It's a rather troublesome feeling, but at least it keeps him in the knowledge what with foreigners flocking here and there and everywhere in his country.

He will clearly remember today; 1873, coming home to find a letter penned to him. It's in English, and his face immediately pales at the thought of Arthur Kirkland writing letters to demand more weights of silver as opposed to knocking down his door and guards and wildly waving around a gun.

But as soon as he reads past his 'name' (Wang Yao he something he thought of in a opium-laden-stupor and even now, he'd rather not attach such a name to his person if he can help it), it becomes obvious that this letter was not from Arthur, despite being in English. The handwriting adorning the Western-styled paper is nothing like Arthur's; where words and punctuations are oddly spaced and hard to make out, the work here is easy to read.

_Greetings Yao-nii,_

_Seeing as how we have not seen each other in a long time, I was wondering if you might like to visit my country on the evening of December 31st, 1874. We have improved greatly, and it would be a pleasure to see you again._

His eyes are quickly scanning the letter, a smile breaking out over his face when he sees the author of said letter.

_Sincerely, Honda Kiku_

China laughs, a mix of real joy and bittersweetness. Three hundred years, and then some, and the boy still writes with such impeccable neatness and such stiff formalities. Some things never change. Quickly, he digs through the drawers of his imported desk (the ambassadors have insisted, like they always have), finding the spare scrap of paper and pen to scrawl a hasty reply of:

_I'd love to! See you on December 31st_!

And time passes; except now he is suddenly aware of rising suns and moving clouds and the idea and feeling of impatience. It digs at his being; he's always been one the more patient people (what with Korea and Taiwan and Arthur and Francis and-the list goes on) and he swears it's the West's influence.

There's something else that is echoing the back of his head. A little light that is flashing on and off repeatedly, as if the gods themselves are trying to warn him of something. Great improvements, Japan (now 'Kiku') spoke of. He wonders what they could be, but then passes it off as silly anticipation (the Westerners; he hates them with his people sometimes...) and nothing more.

After all, he knows that the word generally carries a positive connotation.

x

All of sudden, he's stepping off the boat, onto Japanese soil for the first time in more than a decade and the lanterns and laughing people and lights and sounds of the New Year surround him.

It it weren't for the West, he might've panicked, thinking that he forgot the New Year's coming (for only what seems like the fiftieth time), but it's because of their steady calendar that he knows New Year will fall in the second month this year. Confusion alights on his brow; this cannot possibly be another Japanese festival, he can see the robes and foods, specially crafted for the New Year.

And yet - it is not the New Year.

"_Yao-nii_!" a voice calls from the crowd. He turns, ready to embrace the child that was barely up-to-chin, ready to smile in delight and ask of the celebrations and-

The festivities and chatter and in-general joy fade into the background (and become a dull murmur, rather than a delighted roar) as soon as China sees what has become of Japan (what has become of Nihon; his little Nihon, his first and best student).

His hair is still short, his eyes still don't quite catch the light, and his posture is still as rigid and disciplined as ever.

But everything else has changed.

Instead of his simple, clean robe, the other has chosen to wear a white suit. Rather than being held together with intricate threads and folds, the other nation's outfit is adorned with gold buttons and stiffly-starched collars. What really strikes China as change however, is the sword (the boy used to love but never carry) that is sewn next to gun.

A Western gun.

Japan - no, _Kiku_ - has already walked towards him, and he sees that the other is at eye-level with him, and that he would no longer have to bend down to give a farewell kiss. He returns the other's eye-smile with a mouth-smile that feels half-hearted, even to him (Japan either doesn't notice or he doesn't care). He opens his mouth, there are a million questions that he'd like to bombard the other with, but he decides to start with the simplest.

"Is it New Year already-aru?"

Nihon-now-Kiku (yet another thing the West has stolen from him) raises his eyebrows before replying the same manner that the younger boy always has:

"It is for my country. Since last year, our New Year is always on January 1st. We decided as part of the Meiji Ishin that we would conform with the Gregorian Calendar of the West. We feel that this change makes it much easier to communicate and keep in touch with outsiders," 'Kiku' seems to find China's lack of response fitting, and instead motions towards the currently-loading train, "Come; I think you like to see the first sunrise of the New Year,"

China whose-name-is-now-_Yao_ follows.

Improvements.

'Improvements.'

Japan either doesn't catch the furrowing of brows and downturning of mouth, or he chooses to ignore it (like how he's ignoring his own culture and history and heritage).

It's foolish to blame and rage on the West, but Yao does so all the same.

x

When he sees the other for the first time in sixteen years and four months (he would probably be able to remember the days as well if he thought about it long enough), he expects many emotions: surprise, delight, amazement, excitement; to name a few. What he registers on Yao-nii's face is a mix of bewilderment, disbelief, and (it might just be the light from the lanterns) anger. Like everything else the other tries to mask, it's as clear as day, and Japan (Kiku, Kiku, _Kiku_) can read him like a book.

They watched the hatsuhinode together, but China (but _Yao_) was silent, save for one half-hearted comment about how beautiful the sun was.

Kiku (improved, bettered, more-ready-for-the-world) does not understand why Yao isn't happy. It confuses him, and it is with this in mind in which he knocks politely on the door to room of his elder 'brother'. It is the first reformed diplomatic visit between the nations of Japan and China; he wouldn't mind so much if it were simply 'Kiku' and 'Yao'.

"You can come in-aru!" Yao calls from the interior, and a smile rises from Kiku's heart at the cheerful tone -

Only to have it sink back into the pit of his stomach at the sight before him.

Korea lies, completely clothed (thank God, Kiku thinks) but still sprawled half-on, half-off China. Yao. Who does not seem to mind, notice, or care (as if it were always like this), that the two of them are making an 'X' with their terribly-close position. Yao is propped up against his bed, he turns towards the door, looking expectantly from his transcribed scrolls (a couple of which Korea has managed to steal away) to him. Kiku.

"Hey, Nihon!" Korea says with a wave and a grin, "It's been a really long time, hasn't it da-ze~?"

"Korea, Nihon is Japan now," China says calmly, "How are you, Ja," he pauses, catching himself (since when did Yao-nii act like such a stranger towards him?) and correcting immediately, "How are you Kiku? I'm so glad your ambassadors actually speak Chinese-aru; I'm so tired of having to listen to English!"

Kiku says nothing, only continuing to stand at the doorway.

"A-ah! I don't mean offense-aru! I just prefer Chinese the most, like I'm sure you prefer Japanese, right?"

"Yao-hyung, you're always complaining to me about how much you don't like English, and how even-" Korea starts, only to be cut off by a

"B-Be quiet, Korea! Sheesh-aru; Kiku, do you want to sit down? I'll go get a chair!"

"No that's al - " Kiku tries to begin.

"Hey! No fair, China-hyung! You're going to move again, and then I'll have to move and it'll be such a pain, da-ze~!" Korea whines. Yao-nii rolls his eyes, exaperated, arguing,

(_And Kiku thinks: he's so much better than Korea right now._)

"You come here practically everyday to kill my legs!"

(_So - why is it that the conversation always misses him?_)

"Buuut China-hyung," Korea complains; Japan is annoyed that this one thing has not changed, "You're sooo nice to lie on!" And then he rises up to hug the other in what would be an adoring gesture to everyone else but Japan.

It's one of assertion; of possession. Yao-nii either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

(_How is Korea always better than him?_)

"Get off," He's not Nihon anymore, he's Japan; and he won't stand by for another two decades. Korea looks impudent, and Kiku gets a better idea (as opposed to trying to yank Korea off of Yao-nii).

In a single swift movement, he grabs Yao-nii's arm (in a manner that would make his filial piety loving emperors roll in their graves) and pulls his elder out from underneath Korea.

"What-aru-?"

"Hey!"

The desired result is achieved: Korea tumbles to the floor, and Yao-nii is 'released' from his place underneath Korea.

It's a single incident and he's sure they'll all be back squabbling withing minutes. But something important reaches into the depths of his mind. An evil, evil thought that he would surely have crushed to pieces were it not for arms Korea continues to drape over China. It continues to echo, even now, and later (much, much much) he'll know he'll regret listening to it.

(_It is easier to get what he wants through Yao-nii than Korea_.)

x

_brief history lesson_(6) The Meiji Restoration swept through Japan in the 1870's, because they realized that if they continued to keep with their old ways, the West would totally blow them over (as with China). It was incredibly successful, as seen with its rapid modernization (and later industrialization) which led to it winning the first of many Sino-Japanese Wars. "Hatsuhinode" is the first sunrise for the Japanese people of the New Year. Up until the Meiji Restoration, they had been using the Asian (Lunar) calendar, which they changed to January 1st (the most common Gregorian calendar, that is) in order to fit in with the West.

_notations_ - History has made no easily-findable record of Sino-Japanese relations during the time between the Opium Wars and the first Sino-Japanese direct-conflict... which led to the complete independence of Korea. So as the author, I just assumed that, since they were clearly not at each other's throats in the beginning of the Meiji Restoration, they would be maintaining relatively good (albeit strained and possibly faked) relations. Also of note: human names were introduced in these chapters. Although the Western nations (Arthur, Francis) are probably used to them by now, I assume Yao, Kiku, and Im Yong Soo would have a more difficult time adjusting, so I tried to reflect that in their speech.

...so yeah.


	7. observation

x

Half a Millennium

x

x

x

SEVEN/FIFTY

_observation_

x

Although he is the physical incarnation of their country, he controls the land itself as much as each individual person - that it is to say, not at all. He is immortal, yes, but the land and the people of the land are the ones to control him - not the other around. And besides, immortality pays for itself, over the centuries.

Presently, the meeting before him was making good use of both statements.

In the span of ten years, China has gotten used to the name 'Yao', has gotten used to ministers and ambassadors seeing him, has gotten used to seeing ministers and ambassadors. He does not, otherwise, believe himself - or indeed, his nation - to have changed much.

Arthur smirks lazily; tells him that, with time, he'll get used to it.

(But I don't _want_ to get used to it, Yao refrains from saying.)

When the representatives from Japan were coming for the hundredth time in what seemed like such a short period of time, he is only concerned with whether Kiku has decided to come along too.

After a decade (one hundred and twenty full moons and rises and dips), he is almost used to the fact that his once-student is constantly dressed in military garments, that his once-student carries a sword and gun with him at all times. He would like to ask why the other needs both (along with all the badges and buttons), but something nags at his mind and keeps him quiet.

"Kiku!" He stands from his chair, smiling and motioning to the seat next to him. The head ambassador smiles at him, though the smile does not quite reach his eyes. Yao ignores it; things haven't been 'right' for years, what with the never-faltering influence of the West. Kiku tilts his head in a silent acknowledgment, sitting down in the pro-offered seat.

Their officers and leaders and representatives are busy talking amongst themselves. Half of them don't hold enough power to _see_ the incarnations of their nations and so, Yao and Kiku are kept from the conversation. Straining his ears, Yao can catch a couple familiar words here and there: a check in the trading agreements? An additional wing to some embassy? A dispute regarding their borders? It's important to be listening, he knows, but he'd really rather be anywhere else right now. So instead, he turns around to look at Kiku and finds the other -

Completely concentrated on the meeting.

He sighs in disappointment, and Kiku turns to look at him, a question in his eyes.

"It's so boring-aru," Yao explains and it is not what Kiku was looking for. A flicker of disappointment makes it past his calm façade; he quickly squashes it.

"It's also our duty and obligation to sit here and make sure that we understand what is going on," Kiku quietly replies, turning his gaze back towards the meeting, as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world and something magnificent, rather than a table of scheming, conniving men all out for blood without bloodshed.

Yao bites back a sigh (you can't have Japan's disapproval, his conscience chides; you can't have _the West_ disapproving you), following Kiku's gaze and renewing his efforts at concentration.

It's official: he'd rather be a rice farmer working out in the fields and liable of dying anyday. Immortality is a bore and the meeting sessions do not help matters. The men drone on and on and _on_. They talk about international requirements, they talk about national pride, they talk about necessities and sacrifices, but mostly, they _lie_. In retrospect, his current emperor is no better. Not only is he a puppet, but he's a willing puppet at that.

And as for Kiku... well, he's not much for company anymore; and Yao can't blame him. He thirsts for global recognition, after all.

"_YAO-HYUNG_~!" An obscene amount of flowers and hearts spring up from mid-air and Yao instinctively edges away from the source. Which means into Kiku, who seems rather tense at the moment as well (the meeting must not be going well). Im Yong Soo flies through the air, grabbing Yao by the waist and proclaiming his never-ending love.

Kiku looks annoyed; his chief ambassador is raising an eyebrow (another purely Western motion), and his own emperor is forced to hide his half-chuckle, half-undignified-snort behind his sleeve. Half the room turns towards him, asking their dear figurehead for his knowledgeable opinion on the latest solution. In the interlude, Korea's head representative has sat himself down at the head of the table, exuding a brand of confidence that rivaled only Im Yong Soo himself.

Yao rolls his eyes, disentangling himself from his second brother with a minimal amount of complaint and a maximum amount of effort.

"You seem rather used to being tackled at every meeting," Kiku notes wryly. Yao tries to ignore the hint of distaste in the other's voice.

"Well, you get rather - stop trying to touch me there-aru! - used to it as - _Im Yong Soo, I am warning you_... - time goes - "

"Quiet," Kiku interrupts (and Yao huffs while grabbing Korea's invading hand and twisting), "We should be listening. They're discussing the issue of the Peninsula." Yao doesn't really understand why Japan would want one of his peninsulas, and even less does he understand his own government's reasons for wanting to keep it.

On the other hand though, he's far from blind to the fact that the Japanese ambassadors are trying to stir up anger and righteousness in his people. It's strange, and he'd really like to think over the whole subject for another thousandth time before questioning Kiku on the matter.

The meeting drags on and on and on and he catches a couple words of a slowly-escalating-in-volume conference. There's 'hopeless' and 'stupid' and 'backward' and 'stubborn' and of course, 'you're just looking for a conflict', but he doesn't think too much of it.

In the meantime, Im Yong Soo does his best to entertain. Though Korean puns fail to breach the language barrier, crude humor, apparently, works all around. Kiku closes his eyes, trying to tune out the happy conversation of his 'siblings'. China and Korea have already established themselves in the world; have _been_ established for centuries without end. That Yao is unconcerned with his two losses in Opium War is disconcerting, yes, but it is not his place to intervene.

He needs to do all he can - and all he can do now is listen.

The point of these conferences - as his emperor tells him with a jaded smile - is to make a long and lasting peace.

Which is why he is cannot believe its end.

"Very well," his head ambassador says, not even bothering to hide his smile.

"Very well," the leader of the Chinese delegates mimics, and the two men shake hands.

Kiku stares in disbelief, shaken from his reverie only by Yao laughing at another crudely-fashioned joke.

"Yao-nii," he whispers, slowly turning to his elder. His eyes are wide, but of course Yao pays him no heed, shoving Im Yong Soo's face aside before turning to look at Kiku. Im Yong Soo pouts for a bit, before he's called over by his own ambassador. He flounces off, but not before pinching Yao's nose in farewell.

"What?" Yao finally asks. "Is it..." he starts, and then stops.

"Kiku?" he asks, taken in the other nation's stricken expression. His voice is soft and his hands are gentle, "Kiku, what's the matter?"

"It's over," his younger brother replies. Stiffly, he tries to stand - the ambassadors are leaving, they are leaving and he needs to follow them, he needs to - only to have his legs give out. He collapses into the seat and Yao places a hand over his shoulder.

"What's over?" Yao asks, eyes equally wide, because _of course_ he couldn't be bothered to listen to the meeting.

Kiku bites his bottom lip. Tries to remember the verdict; tries to forget the gleeful expression of his own ambassador. He thinks back to that miserable New Year's Eve; thinks of his own helplessness and how he hated it. He thinks of England, walking across the world and taking everything of interest. He thinks - has thought, time and again - _I want to be like that_. And it is true; he does want to be like that.

You made your decision years ago, a sweetly dark voice chimes.

Yes, he realizes, yes he _had_. Even before Meiji.

"Kiku?" Yao echoes, giving his shoulder a light shake.

"Yao," Kiku says, and he cannot believe himself, "We're going to war."

x

_brief history lesson_(7) Japanese leaders were quick to realize that modernizing their living style wasn't enough to gain recognition from the rest of the world (in this case, namely the West). As a result, they started plans to build an empire of their own - one that concentrated in Asia. The first nations to feel the encroaching Japanese Imperialism were Korea and China, as this chapter references. The Sino-Japanese War referenced at the end of this chapter started in 1894, roughly twenty years after the start of the Meiji Reformation.

_notations_ - I chose to have Kiku, Yao, and Im Yong Soo more or less powerless here, seeing as how in the story, only the person/peoples with (legitimately) the most power can see the nation-peoples, unless said nation-peoples are weakening (because the nation itself is weak). I also wanted a non-angsty, partially-appropriate moment in which China, Japan, and Korea could interact before the first Sino-Japanese War._  
_

...so yeah.


	8. regression

x

Half a Millennium

x

x

x

EIGHT/FIFTY

_regression_

x

This is the first official war fought in a long time. Needless to say, his people are apprehensive. They have been prepared to fight. They have been prepared to die. But they are not, on the contrary, prepared to _lose_. China's military is noticeably larger, and the treasury of the Middle Kingdom - even after having been sacked and pillaged - is still the largest in Asia.

To gain the support of the Japanese people (_his_ people), many reasons are given out.

China has violated our code of conducts in Korea. We must free our oppressed Asian brother.

(Korea is growing stronger with each day, yet continues to allow China to keep control over it. We cannot have such a liable breach in defenses; not with our still newly-modernized state.)

If we do not come to Korea's aid, the European powers will surely take hold of it.

(We need to expand; we need resources and materials and land to prove to the West that we are as good as than them, if not better. Korea will fall first, then the rest of Asia will be ours.)

It is the will of God. Remember the Mongols; they were Chinese! Kamikaze gave us victory, and so it shall come again!

(Throw your ancient weapons to the floor and equip yourselves with guns and cannons so you can kill and by killed in the name of our imperialistic goals.)

Kiku doesn't know the worst part about the current picture (and there are too many bad things to begin with) - the fact that his government is spewing such outright lies, the fact that his people are all-too-willing to believe, or the fact that somewhere, in his heart-of-hearts, he - Kiku, not the nation - _wants_ this war.

Of course he doesn't want to be dominated like Arthur or Alfred or Francis; it's only natural that he's curious as to how much his nation's military have actually improved; and he knows from first-hand experience (many years and broken hearts and unshed tears ago) how much potential Korea as a nation has.

But those reasons all fade to the background when he thinks to that lazy afternoon meeting.

He doesn't quite understand why it irritates him he just knows that it does. In that respect, modernization and time have changed nothing. It's still him and Yong Soo (still Nihon and Korea), competing and vying for the attentions and affections of their shared older brother.

Except now - the rules of the game have been changed.

He's no longer fighting Korea, and this isn't a playfight.

People are going to die (people, real people that can touch and be touched and who can die) in this war, and all that his ministers and advisors can think about is what they're going to do with China once they win.

It's something embedded in their blood (Kiku is proud, though he refuses to acknowledge such an emotion): the lack of knowledge of failure. If you win, then you live; if you lose, then you die. His ambassadors whisper amongst themselves (hush-hush; the _emperor_ is coming), but no one sees the young uniform-clad man slip in and out of meetings and quiet circles, listening to battle tactics and wartime decisions and naval positions. He cannot do anything; cannot help or harm or make any difference at all, but he'll cede the nation to Korea before he becomes as clueless in human affairs as his beloved older sibling.

And so, he studies. While the generals are devising and pacing and revising, he scribes down, (they've long since stopped asking of the sound of pencils, attributing it to the antics of a particularly 'studious' spirit who has chosen to bless the naval base) strategy and plan and operation, before setting them all ablaze the next evening, because they are useless the next day.

He follows victory after victory.

Japan, Kiku. They do not want Korea so much as they want the Peninsula - so much as he wants a part of _Yao_.

He hears whispers of more, more, more, (shall we take Taiwan? Hong Kong? Korea? All of Asia?) but he ignores them in favor of a fascinating strategy involving waterways and Korean peoples themselves at play.

(_He refuses to be touched by the sadness in his brother's eyes._)

x

It's only when the soldiers start openly bringing opium and mistresses on board the ships that Yao understands the hopelessness of their war. The haze of the drugs dots the hull of the ship, where exhausted and dying soldiers alike crowd around a cindering pipe, desperate for even the barest hint of a whiff.

It is because of the opium and the downright evil in these ships that forces him to not only forsake his pandas (hoping, praying, wishing that Korea will take good care of them because if he doesn't...) but his tea set and boiling pot as well. He's in the middle of the ocean, sailing towards certain defeat, (oh, how confident and certain his people had been in the beginning. The feeling of annoyance bubbles up, continuing to steam and simmer due to the actions of the men around him) without decent food or drink.

He's never thought of death by drowning (he'll live through it, he's certain, but how long it would take him to reach shore he knows not) and he's not looking forward to it.

"Here, here!" one of the captains heartily laughs, one hand around a hidden beauty, the other lazily spinning his gold-and-silver pipe, "I'd - I'd like to congratulate the lovely lady here, who is sure to allow the gates of Huang Di himself to open for us!" Drunken and drugged cheers sleepily erupt from about the ship, with the metal of armor and pipes clanking together to make a terribly unpleasing sound.

"And if Huang Di finds her not to his liking," one soldier whose face is more puce than not, "Then we can present her to the Eastern Dragon King, for he will surely buy her for his underwater beauty collection!"

A dry sob from said 'beauty' (really the only decent female the corrupted captains managed to bring aboard the ship) is unheard by the ships occupants, save for the one disgusted human-nation.

He would save her. Indeed, he would save everyone, even the dog of the captain, if he could, but being powerless is something Yao has gotten used to after two thousand or so years. He is standing far from the whirls and whorls of opium, but already he feels lightheaded (and the image of Arthur and Xiang Gang and Nihon keeps him from closing his eyes).

In the end, he chooses to retreat into one of the darker crevices of the ship. His body is weak and sore; filled with fatigue and coupled with shame. In all his life, he hasn't had as much conflict as these past fifty years and now he's going to have to be the loser once again, going to have his _younger sibling_ bring him to his knees.

Maybe a light nap won't hurt. If he's lucky, perhaps the Eastern Dragon King (he does exist; China's seen him, and he's certain he wouldn't approve of the soldier's 'jests') will bring him to his palace; it really is a beautiful palace, underwater or not.

"Hee hee hee," a voice from the darkness chuckles. Yao whirls about, ready for an attack (the idea, albeit insane, has never once left his mind), only to see two lowly soldiers setting alight an whole packet of powder (opium, he realizes immediately) easily worth three times its weight in gold. They laugh and squabble in a hazy manner, and in the process of wondering how they managed to obtain such a large quantity of the drug, he realizes that his muscles are loosening.

He's slipping to the ground.

Good as blind and deaf as well, memories of years long gone flood his mind, overpowering in their intensity.

"Hey! How did this person get in here?"

Arthur. He was the person who forced pipeful after pipeful of opium into his system. He hates him, hates his country, hates what they stand for: hypocrisy and and greed.

"It's...It's a mhanh...Vry prtee zhou..."

Xiang Gang; the youngest child. He looked so nice in flowers (he'd picked those especially for New Year's, for the boy) and so sad and terribly like-a-child that China had to do whatever possible in order to reassure him.

"Well then, why don't we-?"

And then he is lost to the outside world: mind and senses ablaze and tingling with the ecstasy and brilliance that opium brings without fail in its haze. The resounding blast does not register, nor do the invading arms of a foreign touch (a human touch).

"Please Arthur; no...!"

His voice and person are lost in the chaos that soon comes.

x

_brief history lesson_(8) China lost the first Sino-Japanese War not so much because it was ill-quipped or underadvanced in terms of technology, but rather that its ranks were heavily corrupted and its soldiers (as seen by and partially experienced with Yao) were still suffering from Opium addiction. To give an example, after the war started, China didn't add any ships to its navy while Japan brought in about 200 (in the early stages). Chinese military leaders were busy cutting corners (large corners, might I add) with the military money and being generally overconfident of their own victory.

_notations_ - I'm hoping that this scene was enough to show Japan/Kiku's personal reasons behind treating Taiwan kindly (as opposed to -cough- Korea -cough-) in comparison to a lot of other imperialized states. I'm sad for Im Yong Soo the most though, because he gets brutalized and rejected, and aside from being bothersome at times (and then, who isn't?), he's a good kid.

...so yeah.


	9. obfuscating

x

Half a Millennium

x

x

x

NINE/FIFTY

_obfuscating_

x

When the Emperor himself grants Kiku permission to board the last ship they're sending out, it's only after they've boarded does he realize the true intentions of his leader: during the writing of the treaty, he has no need for the whispers of the unheard voice.

It makes sense; he knows for a fact that the other more modernized nation-peoples are terribly irresponsible due to their ruler's habit of forcibly shoving them out of the decision-making process. It may very well be angering, yes; but it makes sense. After all, he has not contributed - save for one side comment about the ship formations - and he has no right in deciding the outcome of the war.

Besides, the nation of Japan has won and at the moment, the taste of victory is more than enough.

He won't have to suffer through the humiliation that China went through after England's assault.

Korea will never be controlled by China and China will be forced to break off all contact with Korea.

And most importantly, his people have proven that they too have the ability to conquer. That they can fight and _win_. Unlike his siblings, _he_ will remain free.

With such thoughts in mind, he enters the lone uncaptured Chinese warship. His own men - no, the Emperor's men - are trooping in and climbing over, securing the vessel inch by inch. It is with distaste that Kiku notes the reactions of the Chinese soldiers. They welcome surrender. It's not in his place to judge, he silently chides himself, making his way through the upper decks. No, he has won and winning is enough.

When the door to the lower chambers are wrenched open, the first of his soldiers to enter drop to a dead-faint.

His breath hitches then.

Perhaps - perhaps he has misjudged their honor. Their own generals have often spoke of death before defeat; such ideas were passed along between their nations and it's not as if -

After an initial scouting session, the report goes out that the heady scent from the lower chambers was opium and not poison. Kiku is grateful then, that his own soldiers cannot see him - that they cannot see the sickening (_sickened_) expression worming its way to his face.

It really went on to show, he sneers, how poorly maintained the Chinese troops were. This was why the war had seemed so effortless to win while at home. His own soldiers would not have been caught dead in such a manner. _They_ were better-trained, after all.

Someone onboard the Japanese ship manages to secure a package of breathing masks and though his hands tremble, he nonetheless snatches one up and secures it over his face, uncertain as to why he wants to venture into the dank depths of the lower board at all. Something is pulling him though, and he's stuck on this sorely successful raid for better or worse. Perhaps this will allow him to not only accept imperialism, but enjoy it as well.

His emperor would like that, he thinks.

"Sir," one of the soldiers says to the presiding officer, saluting where his voice is muffled by the mask.

Kiku can make out a few select words ('what do we do', 'dispose of', and 'keep'), and only subconsciously listening. He walks aimlessly through the largest room of the lower deck, searching for a thing he knows not of. There are other things he notices, but he pays them no heed; (he sees the collapsed general and his stone-still female servant in the corner) they are for his soldiers.

Women? On board the ship?

In a corner of his mind, he wonders if Yao could have been -

"Arthur. Arthur, please _stop_..."

His body registers before his mind and he's sprinting like no tomorrow across the chambers, not even bothering to keep hats and elbows and uniforms from bumping and brushing. He throws propriety to the wind, not caring of who hears or feel him. That voice. He hasn't heard it in a while due to the war, but it has permanently burned itself across his mind, and he'd have to be forsaken before ever forgetting its owner.

Yao lies there, huddled and almost-completely unclothed in the farthest, darkest, dirtiest corner of the ship. There is a small pile of semi-conscious men his own soldiers surrounding him, and one look at the situation tells Kiku what almost took place.

The closest soldier has his hand loosely wrapped around Yao's wrist. Sickening.

Japanese soldiers crowd about, clammering to see the reason for the unearthly scream. A hooded candlelight shines into the small chamber, accentuating the Chinese man's deathly pallor. Muffled voices, hoarse shouts; he hears them, but what matters is getting Yao out of this disgusting putrid place.

Gingerly, he lifts his once-teacher up from the ground, hoping that modernization has not killed off all forms of superstition. Sure enough, the soldiers gape and stare: the light allows them to see the half-dressed person being lifted up and carried out, as if by a spectre, unable to do anything more or less.

For once, inaction proves to have its benefits as well.

"Arthur, Arthur, Arthur," Yao murmurs in between frantic scrabblings and desperate almost-last breaths. Kiku doesn't understand the phenomenon at all, choosing to tighten his hold even further for fear that the nation-person will twist and turn himself over the boat.

Eventually, they manage to reach the Japanese boat without incident (the larger portion of the soldiers are onboard the Chinese vessel and the ones leftover aren't guarding the passover-bridge for whatever reasons) and after a particularly violent tremor (causing Yao to look both arms tightly about Kiku's neck, tightening and holding on for dear life while chanting the name 'Arthur' like a prayer) caused by going down the stairs, they arrive in the room set aside as 'Kiku's'.

There is only one bed, but he lies Yao down without a second thought.

The elder is unwilling to release his hold (and it's only now that Kiku can see the pale trickles of tears on the white-as-snow face), and it takes quite a bit of energy for the younger to untangle himself while doing his best to not agitate.

"Please...stop..." Yao breathes out; hitched and erratic and completely terrified.

(So this is the extent of those wars.)

He is reminded then, of a long-ago time where he was the sick one and Yao-nii (back then, China-nii) was the one helping him recover.

It feels good to be repaying a debt (it's only the first payment of many to come, he knows)

The idea that he would have done so without the presence of a debt is shoved out of mind.

There are more important things, he reminds himself, gingerly dipping a small towel in the room's single water tank.

x

Yao continues to sleep on the bed, struggling between consciousness, even after the soldiers have returned to their mother ship. They speak of strange occurrences and unexplainable events - in hushed and awed voices - and Kiku admires how efficiently the ship's captain silences such doubts.

Ghosts have no place in their world, after all.

Kiku is glad once more that the soldiers have begun to obey the unspoken rule of 'not entering the empty room', because he's not entirely confident that Yao is in any better condition than earlier. He's stopped his violent spasms, choosing instead to clutch blindly at the once neatly pressed sheets of the bed. What remains the same is the constant gasps of -

"Stop, _wo chou ni, ting na ge_-; Arthur-!"

(I'm begging you, stop the-)

Never has Yao continued, but Kiku's mind angrily supplies him with all of the necessary fill-ins.

Opium trade?

Touches?

Pain?

It's because of Arthur that Yao-nii has ended up like this. Never would he have imagined for his elder to be hiding such trauma behind his normal delighted expression. A dry sob is strangled from Yao's throat, and Kiku can hear the footsteps thudding outside.

"I heard a noise in that room!"

"Stupid! You know as well as I do that there is definitely a ghost in there!"

"It could very well be one of those Chinese soldiers, smuggling on board!"

God must hear his unspoken prayers, for eventually the brief conversation ends with both of them deciding to speak to a superior officer before taking action. He's read of stories where the soldiers would have been promoted for their wise decisions, but the entirety of his own inability dawns upon him once more and then he's trying to calm the other down so attention won't be brought upon their haven.

"Arthur!"

(He hates-tremendously, and without any reason.)

Bad idea; it seems, as Yao has relinquished his hold on the bedsheets in favor of Kiku's military attire and shoulders. He sees eyes open, glazed and uncaring, as the grip tightens unbearably and an aching painful voice whispers desperately in his ear:

"I'm give you anything, everything, just promise me you'll take good care of _Xiang Gang_."

"No," Kiku replies, without even understanding what he is denying. Yao takes it to be Arthur (who does not exist aboard this ship except in opium-laden clouds and nightmares) who is responding, causing a sudden loosening of hands and movement so quick and sudden that memories he's sworn to forget and never think of post-Modernization surface.

(The fan, the blade; China-nii bleeding because he was protecting Arthur of all people.)

And it's only then that he feels Yao-nii's trembling lips against his own.

No time for the flushing of faces or any modesty at all as the elder nation removes them as quickly, ghostly golden eyes staring, but not really _seeing_ (not really seeing the present, at least).

"_Wo fei chang lui_-aru," he murmurs, (I am very tired, Kiku thinks) lips-against-clothed-neck as graceful and dainty fingers trail down and across Kiku's top, expertly (sensually) undoing buttons and clasps wherever they may be. Kiku cannot comprehend the situation, cannot analyze it or think at all for all the effort and pride he's put into being a worthy representative of his nation.

He sees black (Yao's hair).

He hears quiet whispers and shuffles (Yao's hands and robes).

He tastes plum blossoms (Yao, Yao, _Yao_).

And then Yao says the one phrase he needs to hear to sober up.

"Arthur, _wo ai ni_." His brain is focused on translating - 'I love you', Yao had once said to Arthur - focused on the literal meaning of the words.

As of now, he immediately seizes upon Yao's hands, stopping their ministrations for better or worse. His eyes don't show much (other than defeat and dejection), and it dawns upon Kiku that Yao-nii can't quite see that he is Kiku, not Arthur. (And now he's the one feeling like a loser, feeling defeat and disgust and remorse and self-loathing and - )

Later, when he is older and wiser, he'll remember the pained face that looked up at him; he'll remember the forced and mechanical tone, the uncharacteristic lack of feeling and emotion in Yao's words. He'll see and understand the truth.

Right now, all he sees is red.

x

_brief history lesson_(9) It's highly likely that China was still suffering from the Opium Wars (and its soldiers/commanders a general addiction to opium) even at the end of the first Sino-Japanese War. It's a little hard to imagine - especially in first-world nations - the idea of government meddling with trade via drugs in order to offset the then-disagreeable trade balance. To be fair, it's probably still happening in the world today, though only time will tell the truth. The next chapter will be concerned with the Treaty of Shimonoseki - the document that officially ended the first Sino-Japanese War.

...so yeah.


	10. conce(de, it)

x

Half a Millennium

x

x

x

TEN/FIFTY

_conce(de;it)_

x

China - no, not China, _Wang Yao_ - wakes up on a foreign bed, memories and mind completely scrambled. Blearily, he blinks, trying to get his surroundings into view and conscious. Something is gnawing at the back of his mind, but when he steps off of the mattress and leaves the room to wander about, the rest of the scene reveals itself to him and suddenly - it's not 1895, but 1842.

His people are in their traditional dress, robes and sleeves hanging down in similar manner to their expressions. The victors are clad in neat, crisp suits; buttons and ties and formal-formal-_formalities._ Half a century, and not a thing has changed, save for the names of the actors in this twisted, horrible play.

His ambassador looks reluctant to sign, but the choice is not in his hands. There are ready-to-draw guns, easily-unsheathed swords, and contempt so thick he feels that he's choking on the very air in the room.

A brief glance around the room shows that there are others of his kind: Arthur, Kiku, Taiwan, along with one other person who simply must be a nation, seeing as how he's tall and bulky with blonde hair and an extremely thick scarf. He doesn't question their presence. This is what being modernized is all about after all and surely -

"Yao-hyung..." Korea murmurs, appearing as unexpectedly as ever, but without any of his characteristic exuberance.

Yao feels a clenching of his stomach; he thinks: 'No, not you too,' but the world has never been kind to immortals.

(There's a reason to why the gods live in the clouds, dragons live in the sea, and the kirin can only be seen by the pure-of-heart.)

"Korea, you've..." and his throat clenches, tears threatening to spill over. He bites his lip; he needs to set the example, he needs to be strong, he needs to be ready to let go (even while wondering all the while - is this really for the greater good?). Korea cries out, hurling himself over China and holding on tight. The elder nation feel his veins getting ready to explode. But he stays quiet, returning the embrace for the first time since _Xiang Gang_ having left, and when he does, Korea holds on tighter.

It's a useless action, but Yao cherishes it regardless.

"I'm not going to see you ever again, Yao-hyung," Korea says sorrowfully, his random curly string of hair flying into Yao's eye, catching a tear before flinging back once more.

A variety of questions and responses could be given, ranging from 'Don't be silly' to 'You don't know that for certain' and 'How did you get in here anyways? Your diplomats haven't been invited' along with 'It's stupid, but I think I'll miss you more'. But he says none of those possibilities, choosing instead to move a hand to gently smooth out hair (as if Korea were a child once more) and blow comfortingly into the messy flounce and flurl of his hair.

"You've...you've been a wonderful brother to me. I am..." Breathe in, deeply, continue (this is goodbye and don't we know it),"I am proud to have helped raise such a wonderful nation," and his front teeth return to viciously biting the bottom lip. Korea responds by loosening his grip, wiping away his own tears and looking down -

Looking down at Yao, with brave-and-sad smile plastered on his face.

(Im Yong Soo has grown up, grown big as well, and sometimes, Yao thinks he's looking in a mirror when he sees his siblings-come-children-come-siblings.)

"Before..." he starts uncertainly, face a little red, "Before you go, can I have something? Soemthing really small, but I've wanted it for forever, da-ze~" And his face is round and beautiful and China knows how much he's going to miss him immediately. There's only one response to give because -

Because this is farewell. This is _good-bye_.

"Anything-aru." And he forces out the brightest smile, thinking back to that wonderful, incandescent New Year so many years ago. Korea looks bedazzled and bewildered for a moment before he catches movement out of the corner of his eyes, and then he moves - hesitantly, slowly, and awkwardly upon Yao.

Eyes widen, and his mouth opens a little, as Im Yong Soo presses their lips together in an embarrassed kiss.

There is a quiet thudding, and Yao breaks the chaste contact, whirling about to see the dull clapping coming from both sides.

A shake of hands; a lack of smiles.

April 1895: the Treaty of Shimonoseki has been signed.

"Im Yong Soo, Yao-nii," Kiku seemingly apparates before them, hand intertwined with Taiwan. She's still young, still unaware of her quickly-changing future. Yao only wishes he had that naïvety in him. He releases the hold he didn't know he had on Korea. Korea is less eager, but does so all the same.

No smiles, no tears, no displays of emotions at all, when Korea leaves his side to join Japan.

Kiku nods in recognition, but Yao doesn't miss the flash of anger in his eyes. He shoves the thought off to the side for now, leaning down (and ignoring the pain in both his chest and stomach).

These are the terms of the treaty: Kiku will be given the peninsula of Liaodong and most favored nation status, like England, along with Korea and Taiwan. Funny, he thinks, but this is the bitter sort of humor. All of his current 'most favored nations' are the ones he has all the rights to despise entirely.

"Taiwan," he says while dotingly stroking the ever-present-curl away from her face, finding the strength to continue, "You should always know that gege loves you a lot," and he opens his arms a little, and Taiwan, unusually, immediately releases her grip on Kiku's hand to jump forward and hug him tightly. It's far tighter than their normal hugs, but then again, Taiwan is a smart girl (like all his children).

"_Gege_," she sniffles, scrubbing his cheeks red with her sleeves, "_Wo ye ai gege_!"

"It's...it's going to be alright," Yao soothes, right as he slowly hands her over to Kiku. His former student's face is impassive, as always, but he takes the still-little girl with as much care and love as he has learned to show. It's a small show, but it lifts Yao's spirits a little, knowing that he is not dooming Taiwan to a life of subservience and agony.

"Promise me you'll take good care of her," he whispers to Kiku. The ambassadors are coming and going and leaving the large room, signifying that the meeting is all but over.

There is a pause, and Yao feels his heart hanging in the air, ready to fall at any given second - the best case scenario hangs from a string. Kiku makes no promises, says no words, and Im Yong Soo simply looks resigned to his fate. Yao prays to God because the three of them - unlike him - they're not immortal and they deserve happiness and - and for once -

A barely-perceptible nod.

It's more than enough

Wordlessly, Kiku cradles Taiwan, motioning for Korea to follow, and the three of them exit the room together.

Yao stands alone; and the damning certainty of the situation pools about at his feet.

It's too much; it's too quick; it's too depressing.

It's only then that he realizes that all four of his children (his students, his siblings, his friends) - they've all left, not only for their separate countries and destinies, but they've all left his life entirely.

He doesn't want to go back home; the panda and palaces don't seem nearly as welcoming anymore.

He doesn't have a choice in the matter though, and his feet take him 'home' nonetheless.

x

"Доброе утро! Aren't you the adorable little дама?"

Yao wakes this time with a start to a smiling face. One high-pitched scream-slash-yelp (he's immortal, yes, but never before has he seen evil dreams being brought to life) and a terribly forceful shove later and he's a suitable distance (read: three steps) from the stranger.

Only then does he realize that the other is not a ghost or otherworldly specter, but rather, a nation...person. Like him. Like Kiku.

Messy brown-and-blonde hair frames a round, pale face. Sharp cheekbones and soft features make an overall pleasing effect, and now that the eyes are open to reveal orbs of something-like-violet, Yao sees that this person is a Westerner, albeit dressed in simple garbs (unlike Arthur or Francis). It's only in that smile (there is an expression-something about showing teeth) that gives him any indication that this person is not as happy and innocent has he would like Yao to believe.

It's clearly a wonderful way to wake up.

"Wh-who are you?" He understands the English (however heavy the accent), but the last word doesn't sound like a language he's ever heard before.

A laugh, delighted and childish, as the hulking figure claps his hands together in what could only be a thoroughly exuberant manner.

"Who am I? The adorable little дама asks who am I?" The long scarf wrapped loosely about his neck moves up, as if alive, in order to cover the other's giggles, high-pitched and not-at-all-assuring.

"Yes, I do," Yao snaps, not at all liking to having been woken up in such a manner, "And what does 'дама' mean, anyways? You are in China, in case you haven't noticed-aru, you should speak Chinese."

"Ah, ah, ah; the little дама is getting mad, she is, she is!" the man suddenly towers over him (only people from the East can move like that), and Yao sees that he's actually much bigger than he first thought. The face, devilish in glee, is a hair away from Yao's once more, and -

It takes actual effort to continue breathing normally, to not appear weak to this new enemy.

"_Wo Ivan_," the foreigner says. "I Ivan," Yao hears, and bites the inside of his cheek. Ivan pauses, before adding: "And 'дама' means _xiao jie_. I am Russia." Yao's left eye twitches at the implication. Another lengthy pause, and an almost-curious expression alights upon his face "Oh, and 'Доброе утро' means good morning!"

Russia. Ah, it explains everything.

He licks his lips (sign of weakness, stop stop stop), ever-so-glad that the - Russia - _Ivan_has decided to pull back out of his personal space.

He is reminded of Korea, who left only a month ago; too long, too soon, too young.

"And why... why have you not been at the diplomatic meetings until now?" Yao braces himself for another terrifying giggle. It comes as expected, and for once, he's grateful that they're nations and therefore cannot be heard or seen by their own peoples. Ivan (the monster that he is) would have probably gotten Yao thrown out of his quarters if only due to the -

"You are such a cute little дама, you are, you are!"

- laugh.

Ivan, who is Russia (who is another power that wants and will _have_control over him) leans down to run a large hand through Yao's hair. He yelps in the most undignified manner possible, as Ivan goes on to make him completely speechless by saying:

"You are rather beautiful, no?"

"No I'm - "

"_I want you_."

(I want to have all of China.)

Yao stares, bemused.

Ivan's forwardness - as well as the complete change of conversation - is too much for him.

"B-But," he manages to splutter out. 'Get out of here, you crazy man!' and 'I could never want you' are a couple responses he wishes he had the courage to give. Ivan stops halfway then, as if perplexed.

"Ah, but you are right," and then the discomforting petting continues, gentle and almost tender, "After all, Japan and England and France and Germany all have rather large parts of you, yes? There's no way that I can have all of you..." And his face changes again into that of a pout, contemplating and thinking with furrowed eyebrows and eyes that are too crinkled and youthful and _western_.

Yao thinks of how to get the hell way.

"Unless! I can get them to all give you to me!" And then Ivan smiles at the seemingly-brilliant idea, looking expectantly at Yao. It takes a moment before the older (more sane) nation realizes that Ivan is expecting to be complimented.

Cursing his luck and lineage and whatever-else-he-can-think-of, Yao opens his mouth, hoping that the words sound more sincere than he hears them out:

"What... what a good idea,"

"I know, I know! Isn't it, my little дама? I'm going to start with Japan; he is the weakest, after all! I know France and Germany will join me because they think he's weak as well!" And he grins maniacally. "I'm going to make you all mine, okay? You'll be my little дама alone!" And then he promptly leaves not only Yao's personal space, but the room as well, hopping out the window as if they weren't on the third floor.

A light 'thump' and loud laughter ensues as Yao flops wearily back onto the bed.

He doesn't know what's more terrifying, the fact that Ivan wants all of China or the fact that (with a smile like that), he might actually get it.

A shiver.

It's a good distraction, if nothing else. Westerners fighting is always a good distraction, after all.

The memories he would really not remember; they're still there, still in his mind, waiting, wanting to be released.

A sigh.

He's tired, depressed, _exhausted_.

He's getting too old for this.

x

_brief history lesson_(10) The Treaty of Shimonoseki was what Japan forced China to sign in April 1895 after it was declared the winner of their conflict. The treaty pretty much gave total independence to Korea (so that China wouldn't have any control/contact with it) and relinquished control of Taiwan to Japan. Japan also gained a chunk of China called the Liaodong Peninsula, but we'll go into that in the next couple chapters. The Japanese government treated Taiwan much better than Korea, assumedly because of the past (and then, continued) conflicts between Korea and Japan (which at least once resulted in Japanese defeat).

Russia had its eyes set on China _long_ before the Sino-Japanese War, and the only reason it didn't help out was because it (like the rest of the Western world) simply assumed that China was not as lagged down by opium and corruption and could then, easily take on Japan and win. The Russian government wanted China as both a trading partner (plenty of natural resources) and an ally (so they would have a barrier from the south. So when China lost the Liaodong Peninsula, Russia decided it was time to intervene, fearing that it would lose China to Japan

_notations_ - Ah, sorry for falling off for a bit. I do hope the chapter title makes it through the formatting. Like usual, thank you for your patience and support; I'm really happy to see that no one's screaming at me yet for the (admittedly minor and very aesthetic) changes.

...so yeah.


End file.
